


Alive

by purple_bookcover



Series: Knight and Squire [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, That's it, that's the fic, they fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Ashe and Felix survived - somehow.Chasing the high of simply being alive, they retreat to an abandoned bathhouse to bang it out.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Knight and Squire [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1525064
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> **THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR[KNIGHT AND SQUIRE 2](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21198629/chapters/50462273), my long multi-chap Ashelix fic.**
> 
> If you care, avoid this fic. If you don't, you'll see some references that make no sense, but it's fine. This is mostly just bangin'.
> 
> CW for choking/breathplay. It's consensual.

“We’re alive.”

Ashe spoke in a breathless rush, his words muffled by Felix’s mouth hungrily covering his. 

“Mmm,” Felix murmured against him. 

Felix’s hands worked as frantically his mouth as he yanked at the laces of Ashe’s pants. The shirt was easier. It was mostly destroyed, nearly in as pathetic condition as Felix’s own. Felix dispensed with it quickly. 

When he went to remove the tatted remains of his own shirt, Ashe trapped his wrists over his head. Ashe leveraged his lean body to press Felix back against the wall of the bathing room, the first private place they’d been able to find when the madness and flurry of battle cooled, replaced with the urgent realization that they were here, whole, together. No one had much use for cold, dirty bathwater. In the aftermath of the battle, the mages in the underground had far better things to do than reheat the pools. 

And so did Ashe and Felix. 

A wicked grin curled Ashe’s mouth. With Felix’s arms pinned overhead, Ashe moved his knee between Felix’s legs. When Ashe swept in to kiss him, Felix felt Ashe’s hard cock against his leg and groaned into his mouth. 

Fuck, they were _alive_!

Somehow – improbably, impossibly – they were fucking alive. And even as the monastery trembled around them from the thunder of a god stomping down on their heads, even as the cuts Felix had clawed into his own chest burned from the friction of Ashe’s body against his, even as he felt the scars marring Ashe’s hands – it was dizzying to realize he was still alive, they were both still alive. His whole body was on fire, but this time it wasn’t the terrible burn of an out of control crest. This fire seemed to rejuvenate him, to force life and energy into a body on the verge of collapse. 

Ashe’s mouth moved to his neck, nipping along his throat, gentle kisses soothing the savagery of the battle. 

Suddenly, Ashe released Felix’s wrists, throwing the torn shirt away as he did. In one swift motion, he had his hands under Felix’s thighs. Ashe lifted Felix up and braced his back against the wall. Felix threw his arms around Ashe’s neck, gripping silver hair as he smashed their mouths together. 

It lasted only a few moments before their exhausted bodies started to quiver and Ashe awkwardly dropped Felix back to his feet. But even as they stumbled to recover, a bright laugh echoed through the empty bathing room, a song of uninhibited joy that Felix realized he hadn’t heard in far too long. He joined Ashe, his arms still around Ashe’s shoulders to keep him close as they laughed at the absurdity of trying to fuck each other against a wall while they were both practically falling over with injury and fatigue.

Felix didn’t care. He interrupted their laughter with kisses. He wanted to swallow that joyful sound, bury it in his chest in a place where he could hold it and protect it and keep it close. A place where nothing could dull it ever again.

Ashe had other ideas. He backed Felix against that wall again, but this time his hands roamed lower. When he palmed over Felix’s pants, Felix heard himself groan. He didn’t realize he’d tilted his head back until he felt Ashe at his throat, trailing nips and kisses down to his collar. Ashe sucked at the space between neck and shoulder, hard enough that Felix was sure he’d leave a mark. Just one welt among so many others. At least this one was caused by something beautiful. 

Ashe’s fingers played around the waist of Felix’s pants, for all the burned and torn garment was even worth anymore. He teased lower, slipping his hand past the waistband to caress Felix’s ass. When Ashe’s fingers went even lower, pressing just at the edge of Felix’s rim, the swordsman gasped. He hadn’t realized his body had nearly forgotten such things until Ashe’s dexterous fingers coaxed him into remembering. 

Felix freed himself from that tantalizing hold just long enough to turn around, putting his face to the wall so his back was to Ashe. 

Ashe wasted no time. Felix heard a whisper of cloth. Then Ashe was against him, skin to skin, nothing left between them. They ground artlessly, ragged bodies scrambling for any bit of touch they could grasp. Ashe’s cock rubbed against Felix’s ass and thighs; Ashe’s hands were on Felix’s hips, his stomach, his back, his torso, roaming like birds testing every branch they could land on. Sometimes Ashe kissed down his neck and back. Sometimes he puffed hot breaths against Felix’s skin. Both sent shivers down his spine as he pressed back into Ashe.

Ashe’s hand snuck around his waist. When he stroked Felix’s aching cock, Felix curled his hands against the stone of the wall, clinging to any surface that could help keep him upright. He might have never been touched in his life for the way his body responded to that hand on him now. 

“Fuck,” Felix hissed, for he dared not call the names of the gods. Not anymore. 

Ashe angled his cock between Felix’s thighs and Felix closed his legs. Even as he started to push between Felix’s thighs, Ashe kept his hand moving, playing along Felix’s length. And though no crest sang in Felix any longer, an even sweeter song began to play, a song not made of strange war drums beating in his ears, but, rather, of his own voice, his own pathetic whines intertwining with the huffs of Ashe’s breath against his skin. 

At first, when Felix had noticed the loss of the crest, he’d felt empty, abandoned, hollow, a shed husk left behind and forgotten. 

He felt anything but empty in Ashe’s hands.

Ashe started pumping faster and Felix felt tremors shiver up his body, threatening to break him. He couldn’t let it end that quickly. Felix reached for the hand at his cock, guiding it up to his throat.

Ashe seemed unsure, even as he kept rocking against Felix, but Felix kept a hand over Ashe’s, encouraging the pressure to increase. Why this? Why now? He didn’t want to think about it. It was enough to know that it was right, that it felt so, _so_ good, that it sent fire through his blood that no crest could match. 

Felix squeezed his thighs a little tighter and heard Ashe whimper in return. Ashe’s hand reacted reflexively, gripping a touch more firmly than Felix had anticipated. There was an instant of weightless fear – what was he doing? How far was he taking this? Was this actually OK? – then the rush hit him. 

Felix felt like he was floating in Ashe’s hold. He was gasping – from excitement, from pleasure, from breathlessness, from a twinge of fear, controlled and contained and all the sweeter for that. He was only dimly aware of Ashe rutting against him, aside from the distant slap of their bodies and the high pitch Ashe’s moans had taken on. 

During the battle, he’d watched himself from afar at times, so wracked with pain he could only observe. Now, he drifted away on a current of ecstasy, tethered by safe hands even as he tested terrifying boundaries. 

It was so different. So different from battle. So different from pain, from fear, from hurt; so different from _that_ time. So different from despair. Felix could only study it as a series of contrasts, but even so, some part of him understood, some part of him that did not yet have words for abandoning himself entirely to the trust of another’s hands, offering himself with no reservation. 

“Felix.”

The broken shiver of his name on Ashe’s lips was a shock of lightning. 

“Felix.”

Ashe coiled tighter against him, tension building in every place where their bodies touched, including his hand. It was a blinding high. Color sparked behind Felix’s closed eyes. He didn’t realize he’d moved his own hand down until he felt it on his cock. 

“Yeah,” Ashe breathed against him. “I’m close, too.” 

Close didn’t begin to describe it. Felix had long ago passed “close.” He was helpless in Ashe’s hands, crying out silently around those deliberate fingers at his throat. He trusted them entirely, trusted them to push just hard enough, to relent only when necessary, to carry him beyond any high he’d ever fathomed. 

And they did. Ashe shuddered against him, his cry as beautifully unimpeded as his laughter, long and loud and helplessly joyful. Felix felt Ashe’s warmth against his thighs. Then, somehow, Ashe added his free hand to Felix’s, helping stroke his cock. 

Felix surrendered his body to Ashe. The archer’s hands squeezed and stroked, tightened and released, permitted and inhibited. Felix followed where they led. When Ashe brought him to the precipice, he stepped gladly off the edge.

Then he was plummeting from a dizzying height, his head swirling as his whole body yielded. He felt like he was screaming, but no sound emerged. Ashe’s hands absorbed his cries of pleasure, his moans and pleas. But only until the trembling, shuddering force of the orgasm passed. 

Then those hands relented, gradually, gently, easing Felix back into his quivering body. 

For a moment, Felix leaned his forehead against the cool stone of the wall and merely breathed. The rush of air into his throat felt like a cold drink washing through him. It was all the more refreshing for how long Ashe had denied it. 

Ashe moved from behind Felix to beside him. He stroked Felix’s cheek with a finger. “You OK?”

Felix straightened, patting at his face. His cheeks were damp and even as he reeled, confused and alarmed, he felt more wetness track down his face. 

Ashe pet his cheek again, collecting the tears on his own skin more than brushing them away. “Felix.”

Felix swallowed. “I’m OK.”

“Are you sure?”

Even as he snorted a laugh, Felix felt more tears come. Gods, why wouldn’t they stop? He covered his face, laughing against his hands even as water kept rolling down his cheeks. If that hand at his neck had acted as a stopper, the rush of orgasm had violently torn it free. He couldn’t begin to fathom the slurry of emotions fighting their way out of him. How could he be so sad and so absolutely contented all at once? 

“Hey,” Ashe said. 

He tugged at Felix’s hands, exposing his damp face. Ashe smiled at him, a tear slipping down his own cheek. The strangest thing about it was how little it changed. Neither of them were scrunched up in pain. Neither of them were howling or reeling. It was like the tears had built up too long and simply had to leak out, like there was no more space left in either of them until this trickle of pressure was released. 

“We’re alive,” Ashe said.

Felix smiled, despite the wetness on his face. “We’re alive.” He shook his head. “Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!
> 
> Join the [Ashelix discord](https://discord.gg/cjFuCx) to hear my incoherent screeching about my beloved rarepair! (Ask me for link if it's expired!)


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